


The Demons Beneath Our Feet

by Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage



Series: Secrets and Saviours [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abandonment, Alpha Greg Lestrade, Alpha John, Alpha John Watson, Alpha Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, By Eventual I mean probably within the first 10 chapters, Crushes, Eventual Smut, Fighting Ring, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Mycroft, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Omega Sherlock, Omega Sherlock Holmes, Omegaverse, Past Abuse, Playing Cupid, Serenading, Will add more tags as I go, past trauma, victor trevor is alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-11-13 03:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage/pseuds/Caring_Is_Not_An_Advantage
Summary: "The roads we walk have demons beneath. And yours have been waiting for a very long time."Sherlock's revealed identity as an Omega is only the beginning. Dangers forgotten amidst crumbling tombstones and the sound of the sea are rising; foes from near and far are becoming so much more than a dusty memory in the locked room of the Mind Palace. Will Sherlock Holmes fall to the demons of his past? Not only that, but will the Government and the Law fall with him?





	1. When Is Life Ever Simple?

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the start of what is going to be a larger story! For those who are popping in, hello! This is the second story in a series that is Omegaverse Sherlock! Here's some information for you; 
> 
> Heat- Also known as 'aestus'.  
> Rut- Also known as 'lubido'.
> 
> This story follows about a week after the events of the first story 'A Startling Revelation', in which Sherlock goes into aestus/heat and John helps him through it. The pair haven't discussed their new relationship, but development is sure to come, right? 
> 
> This story is multi-ship! So it is not only Johnlock but Mystrade too! Some chapters will definitely be more about certain characters at a time, but believe me it does all come together in the end! 
> 
> I hope you readers enjoy! Let's begin this adventure together!

It was Monday morning, the sky splitting with splashes of pink and gold as the sun rose over the horizon. Nimbus clouds were gathering in the distance, dark against the pale blue. Already traffic was beginning to rumble in the streets, engines purring beneath steel bonnets. On the nearest street corner there was a man trying to sell his magazines, the covers adorned with big and bold lettering of striking colour. 

Far above the hustle and bustle of the lives down below a man stood in the window of his small flat, his eyes gazing out into the distance. Upon his left shoulder rested a violin crafted from spruce, the delicate fingers of his left hand drifting across the fingerboard as his right guided the bow across its strings. Beautiful notes floated through the flat, not once disturbed by the clacking of mugs in the kitchen or the whistle of the kettle as it reached the boil. 

There was the sound of the front door beneath them opening and then closing, the musician pausing for a moment. Something wicked glimmered in his eyes as he repositioned his fingers, his expression otherwise stoic as he began to play  _God Save The Queen._ The groan of the stairs signalled that someone was coming up towards the flat; though judging by the way the footsteps faltered for a single moment he was correct in his guess as to who their visitor was. 

Mycroft Holmes strode slowly into the room, his eyes already far past rolling to the back of his head at the customary music selection. He clasped his hands behind his back, cool eyes none-so-subtly scanning over his younger brother standing at the window. "Brother mine," he bowed his head slightly, "you are looking... well."

Both men were perfectly aware that he would have come much sooner, that is if Sherlock hadn't threatened to booby trap the flat door. In all probability it was an empty threat, as he likely hadn't been in any decent state during the week prior to do any such thing. All the same, he occasionally flicked his eyes to his surroundings, in the event of any threat entering the premises to disturb them. That is, any further threat than the alpha that had chosen that moment to come and stand in the kitchen doorway. Still, the true reasoning for his visit was of a much more sensitive a subject than the potential traps Sherlock had left, his eyes narrowing slightly towards John Watson at the very thought. Mycroft pursed his lips and turned his attention back to Sherlock who had yet to turn around, extending the small bag in his hand expectantly.

"The suppressants you requested."

Finally, Sherlock turned and placed his violin back within the confines of its case. With a soft click he shut it, turning his attentions to his brother and flatmate in the same none-so-subtle manner as the elder had moments ago. There was a glimmer of disapproval in his brother's eyes, a sneer twisting his face unpleasantly. Despite this, he appeared almost awkward as he lingered closer to the doorway than usual, as though ready to make a swift exit if this encounter should turn sour. Opposite to Mycroft, John appeared relatively at ease within his own territory. He watched the older Holmes brother with a solid stare, meeting his challenging expression with the ghost of a smirk. However, Sherlock couldn't miss the way the hairs on John's arms appeared to stand on end, his left hand clenching and unclenching down by his jeans pocket subconsciously in place of what used to be a tremor.

"You're looking relatively well yourself, besides the two pounds you have put on since the last time we met." The jab was perhaps rather cruel, but familiarity was the key to persuading Mycroft that Sherlock truly was alright after his heat. With a calm air he strode towards the taller man and snatched the small bag from his outstretched hand, spinning on his heels to place it on the mantle above the fireplace. "Well, at least your connections are of  _some_ use to me. You're as quick as you ever have been." Sherlock glanced into the reflection in the mirror, observing the way John was watching his every move with concern, how Mycroft kept stealing glances towards the alpha with an uncharacteristic nerve. "If you are here to talk, I do suggest you take a seat. I get the distinct impression you have plenty to say in regards to recent... events-"

"Despite the fact they are  _nothing_ to do with you." John couldn't resist interjecting, earning himself an irritable huff from the besuited man. 

"On the contrary, Doctor Watson, these events have plenty to do with me." Mycroft sniffed empathetically, straightening his back and adjusting his stance. His right hand smoothed down the front of his suit jacket, telling Sherlock he had understood the commentary regarding his weight perfectly. It was a low blow, but nothing unusual from his younger brother. Normality meant safe. "I shall keep it short, some of us at least are rather busy after all." He strolled across the room and took a seat in Sherlock's chair, noticing the way in which his brother was almost eager to return to his spot by the window. John was swift to follow suit, taking a seat in his usual armchair. "Is this a particularly  _wise_ arrangement?"

The question itself was directed to the room as a whole and for the most part no one specifically, though a shapely brow did raise towards the seated alpha in the room. 

John scoffed in disbelief, holding up his hands as though praying to some deity for strength before delivering a proper glare to the infuriating man sat opposite him. After all this time he was  _still_ not trusted? "I don't see how it is any of your concern. But, if you haven't noticed with that all-seeing eye of yours, Sherlock is safe, happy, and survived an unexpected heat completely unscathed. That's all you need to know, right? Are we done here?"

From behind Mycroft's head, Sherlock gave the irritated blond a faint smile and shook his head. In a conspiratorial tone he raised his voice, "you know I would have been dealing with the situation myself if there was any issue to be had."

"All the same, I would have appreciated notice. Further notice than was given." By that time it had been far too late. The doctor had been in residence for over 24 hours, it was blatantly obvious what was transpiring. And yet, he saw no outward sign of injury, accidental bonding, or distress. 

Mycroft was aware of his brother's affection for John and the improvement of Sherlock's mental health and lack of indulgence for most of his  _unsavoury_ habits under John's care. But keeping hands-off was not in Mycroft's wheelhouse, not with this. "I do trust all precautions were taken, with you being a doctor. We wouldn't want any... lingering after effects of the experience." He kept his tone level and professional, but his eyes glinted as the alpha appeared to tense at the insinuation. 

It was obvious to any observer, the affection Sherlock displayed for John was quite eagerly returned and the alpha had already formed quite a protective bond over Sherlock. It was hardly a surprise, given the weeks unsupervised attentions and the hormonal changes evident in both men's scents. 

"Of course we did, what kind of man do you think I am?" John growled, bristling in his seat despite the calming look Sherlock was trying to throw at him. God, he wanted to ask the man to leave, but he knew it was an overraction. But it was the principle of the thing! He'd kept Sherlock safe for years! Well, safe-ish. He'd helped him past some of his worst habits, habits even Mycroft himself hadn't been able to break. Surely he didn't think that suddenly John was going to turn into a rabid alpha, bound and determined to never allow Sherlock out of his sight? Not that cases like that weren't unheard of. "Every precaution was taken. I'm still here, I haven't been kicked out. Nothing has changed that isn't for the better, I'd like to think I can say that for the both of us." 

The Government Official gave a haughty sniff and straightened his posture, turning his head just enough so that he could glance over his shoulder at Sherlock quizically. How ones opinion could change if enough time was given. In his mind's eye he could still see a sixteen year old boy, all wild curls and big curious eyes, vowing that he would never succumb to biology's cruel nature. He could still hear Sherlock's frustrated shouting, could still see the thick tears rolling down flushed cheeks as heat took its hold. Blinking away the memory, he realised Sherlock was talking and tightened his jaw. 

"Everything is alright, I am safe. My suppressants became temporarily unavailable as result of a disruption in  _your_ supply chain, brother dear. It would do you well to remember that. I do not plan on sharing any unplanned heats, so all is fine." Sherlock walked past his chair and perched on the arm of John's chair, curving a brow in a rather Mycroftian manner that just oozed expectation. "You have fulfilled your duty, you can leave now." He gestured towards the front door to the flat, hearing footsteps that could only belong to Mrs Hudson coming up the steps with the morning tea. "It really is far too early to handle your fussing."

Mycroft pursed his lips, conceding the point. It was quite an alarming circumstance, but whatever he said to the contrary, his brother was far from stupid and careless. He just had to make sure they had thought through this, what the consequences could be should they be careless or reckless in this affection of theirs. His eyebrow rose just slightly as his brother mentioned ‘unplanned heats’, the further explanation that there could potentially be more ‘planned heats’ in the future plainly obvious. Sherlock had always been far more driven by emotion, but that could very well be his undoing. Mycroft could not pull his brother out of the gutter again, watch him flatline from an overdose, should his beloved doctor abandon him. But from the alpha’s attitude, he could tell the man was quite serious, quite committed for the moment. Well, what was one to do? With a sigh, Mycroft stood as he was directed, leveling a serious look at John that could be interpreted as a warning should he wish to; smoothing out his suit jacket, he sighed and turned to the door to leave. “You’ll be hearing from me fairly soon, I expect." 

Before he could step through the door, he turned, finally facing Sherlock fully since he’d arrived. His eyes scanned his brother a last time, but there was something softer about them as he met the detective’s gaze, something that could possibly be a smile tugging at his lips. “Congratulations, brother,” he stated simply and quietly before turning to leave just as quickly as he’d come.

Sherlock and John listened out for the front door to click shut downstairs and exchanged a look, Sherlock's one of knowing and John's one of wonder. 

"What the bloody hell was that all about?  _Congratulations, brother?_ " John ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, leaning his head back to rest against his chair. "Does he approve of me or bloody not, can he make up his mind? What a bloody cock."

The brunette couldn't help but chuckle at John's complaints, rolling his eyes and daring to lean and press a kiss to his temple to calm him. He watched the man's expression shift and change, smirking as he rose back onto his feet and went to take a seat in his chair. "I believe that is the closest you will have to his utter approval, John. It would be wise to do yourself a favour and not try to seek any further validation from him."

"For a beta he seems to know enough about alphas and omegas." John clicked his tongue irritably, crossing one leg over the other with a frustrated sigh. "He doesn't half know how to piss me off."

Sherlock steepled his fingers beneath his chin, watching the blond alpha with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. Oh, if only John knew. "Mycroft is well versed in many things as the self-proclaimed  _smart one_ of the family. However, there are matters in which he is utterly clueless too."

At this John raised a brow, about to ask a question when his phone began to buzz away on the coffee table. The sound of his ringtone made him jump and he scrambled to see who had texted him, a smile coming to his face that could have quite easily been delight. 

**Pub? The Met? 8? GL**

"Lestrade's just text you," Sherlock observed, tilting his head as he watched John text out a reply. "I'm going to assume you will be joining him for drinks tonight?"

"How the bloody hell did you know that?" 

"Well, Lestrade is your friend. Two working men enjoying drinks, it's a common occurence, correct?"

"What are you getting at?"

"My brother visited this morning, now Lestrade is asking to meet for drinks. You  _are_ aware Lestrade and my brother are..." The detective shuddered dramatically, " _talking_."

"Talking? That's not so bad, Sherlock. They have to communicate to keep an eye on you after all-" John paused at the look Sherlock shot him and horror slowly began to dawn on his face as the penny dropped. "Good God, they aren't... you know-?"

" _No_!" Sherlock laughed, shaking his head as he raised a hand to brush the curly locks from his face. "Christ, no. They are  _friendly_ , but no other development has progressed in the eleven years they have known each other. It's infuriating to watch."

"Hypocrite! Don't you mean like we were friendly for the last five years, hmm?" The alpha raised a brow, smirking as Sherlock had the decency to look embarrassed. "We got there with a little push from mother nature, I suppose they don't have that luxury." A look of mischief flickered on John's face, his whole body relaxing into his seat, the leather creaking beneath him with the shift of weight. "I suppose we'll have to do the nudging, won't we? Might keep that brother of yours out of our business."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Yeah, well, great minds think alike you know. Right, listen up, I think I have a plan."


	2. Favours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft receives a call from a friend, John and Greg have a discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! I'm going to be aiming for at least weekly updates from now on, though with current circumstances involving my dad and his heart attack may alter that for a few weeks. Anyways!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter! It's longer than the others and I had to cut it short or else it would have run on far too long! So, this is going to be part one of two of what originally was one whole chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much to all comments, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks! 
> 
> Have a great day!

Mycroft left Baker Street as quickly as he could, taking long strides towards the sleek black car that awaited him just around the corner. He wasted no time in waiting for his driver to open the door for him, bundling himself into the back seat and shutting said door with a rather satisfying slam. A few seconds passed before he sighed heftily, his shoulders drooping as he took a moment to compose himself. 

He had come to Baker Street that day with a heavy heart, feeling once again fear for Sherlock's wellbeing. A heat, unplanned and unprepared for, all while an alpha had been in the vicinity. Many scenarios had passed through his mind, each being discredited by what Mycroft knew about John Watson's character. The man was fiercely loyal, almost like some kind of guard mutt his brother had picked up. Well, the comparison wasn't that off. John's constant watch of Sherlock with only his presence in the flat was enough to tell Mycroft his brother was being watched over dutifully. Truthfully, there was no other alpha that he could think of that was better suited to Sherlock's… unique lifestyle. Still, it didn't mean the elder Holmes had to like that his younger brother had done this. 

Once again his mind was cast back to the sight of a much younger Sherlock, this time fearful and angry at the injustice of the world. He had to confess, at the time he did doubt Sherlock would ever allow an alpha into his life.  The young man had always been proud, never sharing enough of himself to make a connection with anyone. Then again, did he really have the right to speak on such matters? Caring was never an advantage. 

“Where to, Mr.Holmes?” The driver called from his seat, glancing in the mirror back at the man with a polite smile. He was all too aware that he was interrupting his boss’ thoughts, but by his face he didn't seem too irritated by the distraction.

“The office, Samuel, if you would.” Mycroft replied smoothly, reaching his right hand into his pocket and taking from its confines a little black phone. 

Samuel hummed in acknowledgement and turned the engine on, pulling the car out of park and heading down the street. Every now and then his eyes would flicker back, studying his employer carefully. He had been working for Mr. Holmes for about ten years now, a faithful employee who had seen the man in many different states. Icy, as most people saw him on a day-to-day basis, angry, as those unfortunate enough saw during those darker days where nothing went right; but there were those rare days, becoming far more common than years ago, that he saw Mycroft Holmes smile. Smile, laugh, all while holding whichever phone he was using at the time. It was only in the last couple of years this change had occurred and whatever the cause was, Samuel was grateful.

As of that moment Mycroft was fiddling with the left cuff of his suit jacket, glancing at his phone with what could only be assumed to be anxiety. The Government Official had tucked himself into the corner of the back seat, his back resting against the car door rather than the leather covering. One who didn't know him well would quite easily miss the restless rolling of his right ankle, the twitch at his thin lips showcasing his urge to frown, or even the darkness surrounding his mist grey eyes that told tales of sleepless nights. To the outside world, Mycroft Holmes would probably look bored. 

The outside world didn't see the light shine in his eyes as the phone began to vibrate.

“Keeper.”

“ _ Antarctica _ .”

“Hello, Mr. Lestrade.” Mycroft found himself smiling as he held the phone to his ear, folding one leg over the other as his body began to relax at last. Once he was sure Samuel was no longer listening to him, he lowered his voice, “Greg, it's good of you to call.”

“ _ Nothing to it, Mycroft. I know you were worried about seeing Sherlock today. _ ” The voice on the end of the phone sounded concerned, perhaps even worried. “ _ How were they then? The flat still in one piece? Don’t hold out on the details. _ ”

“Ah, yes. Sherlock indeed seems to be in good spirits, I was quite swiftly asked to leave the premises.”

“ _ Unsurprising, really. Who'd want their big brother comin’ in and grilling them and their boyfriend after a week of- _ ”

A groan of disdain left Mycroft’s lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his face twisting with discomfort at the mere suggestion that Sherlock and Doctor Watson had been copulating. “Please don't remind me, Greg.”

“ _ Sorry, sunshine. You'll have to get used to the idea sometime; I'm honestly amazed this didn't happen sooner. Then again, you and Sherlock managed to keep his classification secret even from me for nearly eleven years. _ ” There was absolutely no way to disguise Greg's obvious distaste at the mention of their secrecy, the Detective Inspector as always a beacon of brutal honesty. “ _ Us common folk really have no chance against you Holmes boys when you work together. _ ”

“You exaggerate, though I do understand our dishonesty must have been rather disconcerting. In future I shall strive to be more honest with you; you have been a valuable asset in keeping my little brother out of trouble after all.” 

Truthfully, Mycroft didn't like lying to Greg. The man had worked with him for eleven years now, keeping Sherlock off of the streets and away from the drug dens he used to frequent so often. Furthermore, due to their work acquaintanceship developing into something more of a friendship, Mycroft felt that it was perhaps time to divulge a little bit more information about himself than the Ice Man that he had been displayed as until now. 

Thus far, that had involved the occasional dinner at The Diogenes Club when their schedules had aligned. Dinner and talking over whiskey and cigarettes had allowed them to begin to open up to one another. Unfortunately, that is where their current relationship stood, leaving Mycroft with an unsettling yearning for more. More of what, he honestly could not tell.

“Anyway, as for Doctor Watson, I'm sure you can ask him all you wish to know tonight when you see him.” 

The sound of Greg's quiet chuckle was pleasant on the ears, Mycroft’s smile growing just a little bit wider as he listened.

‘ _ Well, we'll see how much I remember come tomorrow morning, it's been a while since I had a drink with a mate- at the pub at least. _ ” There was another chuckle, then a sigh.  _ “If I find out anything that I think is concerning I'll let you know. I have to go, I've got work just like you do and I think my Sergeant is ready to wring my neck; she's been waiting half an hour. I'll send you a text later. _ ” 

“Until later then,” Mycroft agreed, looking out the window at the London traffic as he lingered on the line just a little longer. “Thank you, Gregory.”

“ _ Anytime, sunshine. See you _ !”

As the line went dead Mycroft let the phone slip from his hand into his lap, a content and certainly calmer aura emanating from him as he sat back in his seat. Another benefit of their new friendship, Mycroft realised as he chewed the inside of his cheek, was that these fears of his regarding Sherlock seemed much less frightening than they used to when he faced them alone. 

Perhaps one day he could begin to face his own demons with Greg's help.

* * *

  
The pub was bustling with life when Greg walked in, the warmth blasting his face against the chill from outside. Peering into the dim lit room, he sought out John’s blond hair amongst the crowd and was relieved to just catch sight of a tuft of gold sticking up behind the high seating of their usual booth. Quickly he approached, his hands halfway through unwrapping the thick scarf from around his neck as he took the seat opposite the younger man. 

“Evenin’,” he greeted merrily, dark eyes shining in the same friendly manner as always much to John’s surprise. “Bit nippy out there, ain’t it?”

“Bloody right,” John agreed with a chuckle, his hand wrapped around his pint glass though making no move to raise it to his lips just yet. With his free hand he made a gesture towards the free pint placed in front of the Detective Inspector. “First round’s on me, Greg.”

Surprisingly, Greg raised a finger in a quick motion for patience as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone to place on the table. Despite what he’d promised Mycroft earlier, he wasn’t intending on trying to wrangle any information out of John. Sure, he had been pretty worried about Sherlock throughout the duration of the last week but he knew John. John Watson was a good man, loyal, kind, and quite obviously devoted to the world's only consulting prat. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t have been put in harm’s way, not with the other alpha standing guard. 

In his palm his silver phone vibrated, the screen lighting up with something unintelligible from John’s view scrawled across it. Greg’s lips curled into a warm smile and his eyes gained a sort of sparkle that John had only seen on the rare occasion at a crime scene of all places; usually when the figure of a man standing beneath a black umbrella lurked at the edges of the yellow tape. He knew all too well what that look meant and just what kind of a man could inspire such a reaction. 

Finally, Greg tapped away a reply and left his phone alone on the table. He grabbed his pint and raised it, nodding to John in thanks before happily taking a swig of the amber liquid. The bitter taste that lingered on the tongue was more than satisfying, evoking a dramatic sigh of enjoyment and a cheeky grin. 

“Ta very much, what’s the occasion?”

“Not being completely destroyed by Mycroft Holmes this morning might be a good place to start,” John laughed, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe his own words, subtle signs of reserved irritation flickering in his gaze. “He came to the flat this morning to visit Sherlock, y’know, to check on him after last week. You ought to have seen some of the looks he gave me, Greg. You’d have thought he was going to have me mysteriously disappear or something. He probably would have if Sherlock wasn’t happy-.”

“You know, Mycroft’s not that bad once you get to know him.” The silver-haired DI scratched at the rough stubble growing on his jaw, his eyes rolling of their own accord at the sight of John’s raised brow in his direction. “I mean it, he’s just protective.”

“There’s being protective, then there’s being controlling. Mycroft walks a rather fine line.”

Something within Greg’s chest tightened and he frowned, shaking his head at his friend who was watching him carefully. Perhaps it was something in his scent, some underlying bitterness or a new sourness that had just about become noticeable amidst his usual smell of earth, pine wood and the morning dew of spring. It was blatantly obvious though, he didn’t like the way John spoke about Mycroft. There was an immediate desire to protect the man considering the fact he wasn’t here. 

“I’m telling you, he’s not that bad really. Just a bit misunderstood, just like Sherlock… Except Mycroft doesn’t claim to be some kind of a sociopath.” 

They fell into a somewhat uncomfortable silence, sipping at their beers and not quite meeting each other’s gaze as Greg’s rising temper simmered beneath the surface. It had been so easy in the recent months to let his festering anger bubble and pool just beneath the surface. So easy to have no control, God knew he could claim he had a valid excuse. 

“He helped me, you know.”

“Who, Mycroft?” The surprise in John’s voice was hard to disguise, but Greg knew that his friend had a right to feel that way. 

“Yeah, when the divorce came through. Cheryl had contacted me on that day, sent me a picture of her with her new fella’, put me in a bad place.” Greg stared down at his pint glass and closed his eyes, raising it and blindly gulping down a bit more beer. “I ended up down at the pub close to the Yard every night for the following week. I ended up getting picked up by Mycroft on the Friday night, all dressed to impress and with his cold eyes…” The memory alone was enough to make him shiver dramatically. 

“What happened?”

“He gave me a bollocking, of course!” Finally, Greg’s voice became a bit more merry and he laughed. “Ranted about how I was better than this, how could I be responsible for little brother when I was drinking away my sorrows like some brute? All while I was puking my ring up in the gutter.” There was a muttered  _ christ  _ from John and he shook his head, smiling warmly once more and seeming unoffended by the memory. “He made sure I got to bed that night, got me water and painkillers before buggering off again. I saw a different side to him that night, John. He’s a good man.”

John held up his hands and grinned a little in return, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he none-so-subtly looked his friend over a couple of times. Just from the way Greg was talking, it was obvious that there was more to the story. There was a sort of shyness to his voice, as though it were some precious memory he was fondly recalling rather than opening up about a bad time in his life. 

“Alright, so he’s not a complete cock all of the time. Maybe he’s only nice to you, who knows?” The blond teased, smirking as a dusting of pink covered the DI’s cheeks that couldn’t entirely be blamed on the alcohol. “So the question is, Lestrade, when the bloody hell are you going to admit to yourself that you’ve got a thing for posh boys in three piece suits and a ruddy umbrella?”

The beer Greg had been drinking was immediately spluttered out, dripping down his chin and having been sprayed over the table rather inappropriately. The pinkness of his cheeks deepened to a crimson and he glared, growling under his breath at John’s victorious grin. 

“I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re playin’ at, sunshine-.”

“One doth protest too much, mate. Admit it, you’re bloody head over heels and you know you are. Take it from an idiot who took about five years to learn what that was like.” John winked, enjoying the obvious embarrassment that Greg was suffering through. He was all too aware that Greg had probably been asked to gather what information was available on what had happened between him and Sherlock, but this was far more fun than playing innocent. 

The sound of a phone vibrating interrupted the start of John’s interrogation, Greg seizing the opportunity to snatch his phone and shove it in his pocket. For a moment, it looked like the old DI was about to either make a break for the door or put up a fight. Instead, however, he put his head in his hands and groaned. 

“Christ, John, _what do I do_?” 


	3. What to do? A warning!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg ponders what to do, Sherlock delivers a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> I'm so sorry for the slow update! Things have been rather tough but are starting to improve now. I'm hoping the next chapter wont take as long to write!
> 
> As always, thank you for the subs, kudos, comments and bookmarks as well as every single read! I hope you guys will continue to enjoy The Demons Beneath Our Feet!
> 
> Until next time, guys!

John couldn’t help but smile fondly at his mate as he cringed from embarrassment in the seat opposite to him. It hadn’t been so long ago that he was in that state of mind, so afraid of taking the next step and needing a push from mother nature. Unfortunately, as far as he was aware (not that it was discussed often) Mycroft was a beta. He and Greg would not be subjected to the same force that came with a heat, just as he himself and Sherlock had. However, alongside his amusement he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy for the bloke. Greg had gone through a nasty divorce, had fought tooth and nail to come back from the darkest of moments and still remained his sunny self. Mycroft Holmes was a lucky man, he just didn’t know it yet.

“So why haven’t you gone for it, mate? Get back out there, take risks. Maybe don’t go taking a risk like I did, but even asking the man to dinner once in a while might be a start.” John raised a brow as Greg ducked his head, the elder man’s cheeks warming to a much more heated crimson than moments before as he peeked from between his hands. There was only one word for that look, guilt. 

“Look, John. It’s been a couple years since the divorce,” he paused in order to down most of his remaining pint, “never really fancied getting back into it. The marriage fucked me up enough, y’know?” He reached a hand into his pocket out of habit, grasping onto his mobile and smiling a little more once again. He wasn’t going to mention in too much detail just how much Mycroft had helped him through that depression, though John was no idiot. He would figure it out sometime, he was sure of it. “I don’t even know  _ how  _ to make a start on this kind of thing anymore. Dinner? We do that already, once a month-."

John’s burst of laughter was welcome, Greg finally sitting straight and letting his head roll back; laughter rolling off of his tongue as he realised just how this sounded. He missed the sight of John’s smirk and the sly gesture to keep the rounds coming, he missed the almost sympathetic look in his friend’s eye. The one that said  _ I’ve been there, I know what you’re going through.  _

“I’m not about to tell you to go and put a ring on his bloody finger, am I? I get it, I really do. I’m just saying that it’s been a bit of time now, I think you’ve had your eye on Mycroft for a while and you don’t want to admit it.” John paused in order to move on to his next pint, sipping and letting his words sink into Greg’s head. 

“Relationships… aren’t my speciality.”

“Greg-."

“That much was obvious from what happened between me and Cheryl, there’s no point trying to change my mind.” Greg seemed resigned to the fact, a self-deprecating smile appearing as he picked up his pint for yet another gulp. It wasn’t exactly a secret that the failure of his marriage didn’t fall solely to his wife’s cheating, though for him it was a hard pill to swallow. He had hardly spent enough time with her, always working. Sure, he could reason that it had been to build the life together that they had dreamed of together while on a date beneath the stars; Sherlock probably would have called it whimsical to have hung on to such a hope. 

“I think you just had a rough shot with her, Greg. She was disloyal, you tried the best you can."

Greg’s jaw tightened as he closed his eyes, taking a moment after John spoke to let the message sink in that he wasn’t quite ready to embrace  _ that  _ line of talking. Not now, even two whole years after the divorce was he prepared to open that can of worms. It still hurt far too much. 

“Look, why don’t you ask him for dinner  _ away  _ from the Diogenes? I’m gonna bet that’s only where you’ve been, eh? Why not invite him over for dinner? Or go out for a meal somewhere  _ you  _ enjoy? Get him out of that… club.” 

John’s grimace at the mention of the Diogenes made Greg chuckle, rolling his eyes. True enough, the club itself was odd. However, with Mycroft as one of its founding members he really wasn’t surprised as to the strict nature of the place. The quiet allowed plenty of time to enjoy one's own company, Greg supposed. He never could understand the charm of the place, though he could appreciate it to some degree at the very least. John seemed… less forgiving of its strict rules.

“It’s just not  _ healthy  _ to be that… well, you know.” The blond groaned, shaking his head and frowning. “I get the need for peace and quiet, I live with  _ Sherlock Holmes _ . But you have to draw a line! Three strikes and there is a bloody committee summoned, Greg. A whole committee for talking three times. That has to strike you as ridiculous.

“Even Sherlock’s admitted the club is charming in it’s own right, mate. A soothing atmosphere, some peace and quiet; why do you think he lies on the bloody couch for hours sorting through that… what is it, mind vault?”

“Mind  _ palace _ . We’re getting off track here, you still haven’t commented on my suggestion-.”

“What? Inviting him to dinner at somewhere  _ I  _ know? Or worse yet, invite him to my flat?” Greg raised a brow and scoffed, finishing his pint and starting on the next John had bought for him. He gave a chuckle, his eyes glimmering as he smiled good-naturedly. “Look, I don’t think he’d be up for either of those suggestions. Getting back into this really isn’t a good idea-.”

“You won't know unless you try! God, was I this infuriating?”

“To be quite frank with you, yes.” Greg couldn’t hold back his laughter, the sound light and ringing as he lightly slapped his hand on the table. John couldn’t help but notice how jolly Greg looked when he laughed; his shoulders bouncing with every bubble of mirth, his eyes sparkling with delight, his chest puffing out. Like some kind of non-festive Father Christmas without the big belly. 

“Well, unlike your approach of simply talking at me until I give in.” John smirked and reached across the table, plucking it from Greg’s side and holding it just out of reach with a grin. Before the DI could reach over (nearly spilling their collective drinks) and retrieve it, he quickly set to work.

**Hey, I know you’re probably real busy at the moment but I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner? Not for business, as friends? I want to talk to you about some stuff. -GL**

With the message sent John slid the phone back over to Greg, smug in his smile while the elder man looked ready to throttle him

“What the bloody hell did you do that for?!” He barked, his cheeks burning. God, this was hardly fair! At least he’d been decent enough to let John and Sherlock figure this thing out themselves! “We’ve got a good thing going at the moment!

“Trust me, mate.” John assured him with all the confidence in the world, “you’ve got the confidence of the world's only consulting detective and his blogger at your back. Mycroft’ll respond just fine, now just sit and  _ wait _ .”   
  


* * *

  
Across London in his office, Mycroft was stood in the doorway with a look of disdain. Sat on his desk, swinging a leg and looking utterly bored, was his baby brother. With a customary sigh and a rising brow, Mycroft straightened his posture and tilted his chin upwards expectantly.  

“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” He asked calmly, proceeding to walk towards his desk at a slow, casual pace. Eyes scanning already over the younger man he was relieved to see he wasn’t hurt in any way, there was no evidence of him being high. “You haven’t caused a fuss for my security team again I hope.”

“You never answer calls from me, I thought I’d come and see you. Hey bro-,” Sherlock’s tone oozed sarcasm as he rolled his eyes and hopped off of the desk, “no, I wanted to talk to you about something a lot more important than your security team.” Swiftly he moved to the open doorway and closed it, glancing over his shoulder and frowning. “You are aware you cannot keep things hidden forever, yes?

“Sherlock-.”

“Hear me out on this, Mycroft.” Sherlock raised a hand, a plea for silence. “You and Lestrade are good friends, I am aware. You are also attracted to him, you know certain instincts will begin to return.”

“Like you, I am on a decent enough suppressant. If this is what you have come here for this is utterly ridiculous. I have no need to reveal myself to the Detective Inspector or anyone else for that matter. You shall do no such thing either, just because you are suddenly in the open to a select few individuals.” Mycroft sniffed and scowled down the end of his nose at Sherlock, his lips curling into a frown as he didn’t seem willing to drop the subjec

“I’m just warning you, Mycroft. In a few weeks, a month at the most, I believe you will come back and talk to me about how you don’t know how to handle yourself around Lestrade. He is an  _ alpha _ -.

“I am exposed to them on the daily, Sherl-.”

“An alpha you are attracted to, Mycroft. An  _ omega  _ who finds an alpha attractive, biology will raise its ugly head and begin to treat you like the puppet you are, I just want you to be prepared.” Sherlock shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Mycroft twitch on the spot in a kind of anger he hadn’t seen before. Suggesting his brother could lose control was a high insult, but Sherlock had experienced it first-hand. He may not see eye-to-eye with the elder, but he remembered just how frightened he had been when his heat had taken hold. He knew that the other man hated to feel helpless, he knew that the effects of his dalliances with the Detective Inspector would blindside him with ease. 

There was a pregnant silence as the brothers stared at each other, the tension palpable. Mycroft glowere`, not liking the all-knowing tone his younger sibling took in regards to this matter. What, just because he had made a  _ mistake  _ and allowed his instincts to go unchecked, it meant that Mycroft would make the same foolish blunder? Not bloody likely. He was the smart one, he could keep enough distance there without the Inspector getting suspicious of anything. He would  _ never  _ allow himself to get into that situation ever, for both his and Gregory’s sake. 

Finally, he uttered a sigh and gave in. With a bowed head he gestured towards the door, the words coming out in a mumble. “Will that be all?”

“Just be careful, Mycroft.” 

With that, Sherlock the whirlwind rushed out of his door, not wanting to let his apparent concern linger for too long. Once more Mycroft was alone in the darkened room, his eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting relatively quickly as he moved to sit at his desk. Quickly, he pulled out his phone from the topside left drawer, noticing the small light blink green at him for a notification. Just as quickly he unlocked his phone, leaning back in the office chair and raising a brow in surprise at Gregory’s text. What on earth could the man want to talk to him about?

Given Sherlock’s sudden visit, Mycroft already suspected he had something to do with it. John was with Gregory right now, this could quite easily be some kind of prank. Then again… he had meant to  invite the DI to dinner soon. This seemed as good an opportunity as any, perhaps this ‘talk’ would be about something not entirely worrisome. A warm feeling filled his chest against his suspicions, a voice in the back of his head suggesting he should be  _ excited  _ for the opportunity. Rapidly he muffled that voice and locked it away in a deep recess in his mind, he didn’t need that kind of thinking when he didn’t even know what the circumstances were.

**Should I be concerned? -MH**

**Nah, nothing like that. :) Promise, I just need to talk to you about some things. Nothing bad, I’m not about to arrest you if that’s what you’re worried about. ;) -G**

**How much have you had to drink? I see you are at the emoticon stage of drunk. -MH**

**I’m nothing of the sort! >[ I’ve only had a couple pints… so, dinner? -GL**

**I’m free this Friday, if you are free I shall pick you up at eight? -MH**

**Actually I kind of want to take you somewhere different to usual. I’ll pick you up from wherever you want, eight on Friday sounds good. Will see you then. ;) Text me where you want picking up from tomorrow. -GL**

There were probably many security protocols against going off to surprise dinners with the rugged DI from the Yard, but Mycroft found himself not wanting to say no. 

It was one dinner, surely there wouldn’t be any harm in that, right?


	4. Rough Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's been feeling rough; Greg and Mycroft suffer a rough beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So, I'm aware this chapter is somewhat shorter than the rest. However, this is going to set up the next few events, so the next few chapters should be longer! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, thanks for the subs, kudos, bookmarks, comments and reads! Every one is appreciated.
> 
> Until Next Time!

The flat had been deathly quiet as John trudged his way back up the stairs and into the flat, his keys clattering against the bowl by the door and his coat slipping to the floor. He hadn’t quite meant to get this tipsy, but Greg had insisted on a few more drinks the moment the texting between him and Mycroft had stopped. Celebratory drinks, the DI had explained, as Mycroft seemed amenable to the idea of dinner as a social call rather than purely business.

_ “It’s just a meet-up, John. Between friends, nothin’ more!” Greg blurted after taking a long gulp of his beer, his cheeks a warm pink. His eyes refused to meet John’s, for fear of further embarrassment. “Now shut up and drink, don’t think I’ve not noticed you’ve held back this entire time." _

With a chuckle at the memory, the blond shook his head and stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom which Sherlock and him had been sharing since the heat. Sherlock had reasoned that they had already shared enough of their private life, a bedroom was nothing special. As John opened the door, the small square of light fell upon the end of the detective’s bed and the lump beneath the sheets began to wriggle slowly. 

“John?” Sherlock rumbled softly, his voice quiet and somewhat relieved as a sleepy eye opened to peer through thick curls. Filled with lethargy, he pulled back the covers and rolled onto his back to give the other man enough room. As John joined him he tucked his nose into the alpha’s hair, taking a minute for his mind to rouse fully from slumber and enjoying the little instinctive rush he felt through his veins.  _ Finally  _ he could practically hear his body say,  _ finally you’re home.  _ Who would have thought those innate desires could be so powerful? “Is everything alright?” 

A beat passed and John uttered a sigh of contentment, releasing the anxiety that had been bothering him for most of the evening. He had known that he would be stressed leaving the omega after so long alone together in the flat, but it was painfully obvious just how much it had gotten to him as he released a purr and buried his face into Sherlock’s neck. Drawing in a breath he got a whiff, fainter now that the detective was loyally taking his suppressants again, of that sweet scent and it soothed his frayed nerves; his worries fading away in favour of reacquainting himself with everything comforting about the detective’s touch and scent. Jesus, that husky, sleepy voice… would Sherlock ever know just how head over heels he was? 

“M’fine,” he murmured, lifting his head just enough to meet his lips for a quick kiss. “M’fine now, anyways. You?” 

Since the shared heat, things had changed for Sherlock in ways he’d never expected. His instincts had only compelled him to feel a loneliness that he’d not been familiar with before and the very cause of it was being parted from John. It was going to take a while to adjust, for the both of them both given how tense John felt in his arms and how shaky his own hands were. Instinct, it was a cruel thing. 

“I confess I felt your absence more than usual. It’s… perplexing.”

“You can say you missed me, y’know.” John tsked and rolled his eyes, looking at Sherlock with a quirked brow and a tired smile. Still, he could feel Sherlock’s subtle quiver as they embraced, concern filling his eyes as he studied the man. Had he really been affected by their distance? “Sorry I took so long, m’glad to be home-."

“It’s quite alright, John.”  It must be after effects of their shared heat, his body seeking a bond that was not there and an alpha for support, Sherlock decided as he settled for sleep once again. He could not see it, but there was a look of renewed clarity to his gaze as he looked down at the alpha who shuffled ever closer. It was as though he had lost focus the moment he had left and only just found it again, a troubling issue indeed. Something to discuss later. 

“Greg’s takin’ Mycroft on a date,” John murmured as the detective twisted onto his side, letting an arm drape over his waist protectively and smiling when he heard the man purr softly. “They’re going to go get dinner, though Greg’s determined to pretend it’s all just a big friendly social meetup.” There was a pause, a little chuckle of amusement, “do you think they felt like this?”

“Mm?”

“With us, when we… you know, used to act how we did. Do you think they ever just wanted to give us that nudge?” 

Sherlock seemed to ponder the thought before glancing over his shoulder, barely able to see the tuft of John’s silvering hair behind him. With a quiet chuckle he settled again, rolling his eyes. “Well, they weren’t mistaking us as a couple for the joy of seeing you deny it, John. Or myself for that matter.” 

Another beat of silence, then a quiet sigh of content. 

“Alright, alright… Well, I hope this goes right for them.” 

“Would you believe it if I said so do I?”

* * *

It was raining as Greg walked out of the Yard and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes scanning the street and landing on a large black umbrella. With a smile he began to trudge on over, tugging his coat to shield his neck from the cold winds and the rain. He could just make out the slight smile on the other man’s face which was quickly concealed as their eyes met, his grin only widening. 

“Hey, it’s good to see you. I could’ve picked you up from anywhere else though, you could’ve avoided the rain.” Greg chided as he ducked beneath the brolly, tutting and rolling his eyes at the raised brow he received in return. “Hell, you could’ve come in. Christ, you weren’t out here long, were you?”

“Only for the last couple of minutes. You really don’t have to worry quite so much, Gregory.” Mycroft took one last drag on his cigarette before letting it drop to the floor, crushing it beneath his shoe and looking around briefly. “So… you are driving?”

“Right you are, sunshine. Come on, follow me.” 

The pair of them walked down the road towards a car park not too far away, the sound of their footsteps light over the pitter-patter of the rain overhead. No words needed to be spoken, not yet, and Mycroft took a chance to sweep his eyes over his friend with curiosity. He appeared to have changed his shirt before exiting the building, presumably due to spilling coffee down his front earlier today; that is if the stain on his shoe was anything to go by. He was caught by surprise, given his profession there most probably isn’t much that can startle him except… perhaps Sherlock? He has been gallivanting around for some case or another the last two days, it is a potential cause for alarm. Ignoring that  for the moment he could see there was dampness on his collar, suggesting he had rinsed his face and neck before coming; an efficient effort of cleaning up after a long day. 

The additional effort was charming, if not a little unnecessary. 

“So, dare I ask how much running around Sherlock has forced you into this last week?” Mycroft spoke at last, humour glimmering in his eyes as Greg guffawed beside him.

“Too bloody much. But, John’s been making sure he doesn’t do too much, the poor bloke gets pretty frustrated quickly. He burst into my office today, blabbering about one of the cases we’ve set him on, and it was clear he’d not exactly told John where he was going-.”

“Sherlock has no requirement to inform Doctor Watson of anything.” Mycroft’s tone became sharp, even icy, as he waited for Greg to unlock his car and shuffled into the passenger seat. He closed the umbrella just outside, shaking it of stray droplets before tucking it between his legs. “He is free to do as he wishes, no matter what his classification stands for.” 

Greg looked at the other man in surprise, his eyes wide and his hands held up in mock surrender as that harsh gaze fell upon him. What had set that off? The sudden mood swing was enough to give him whiplash from its ferocity.

“Trust me, sunshine, John’s the last person who’d want to impose on Sherlock like that. Besides getting the scrawny bastard to eat and sleep regular, but he’s been doing that since before they shared a ruddy heat.” There was a pause of silence, one filled with tension that the DI had not seen coming. “C’mon, you know John wouldn’t hurt Sherlock like that.”

A snort of derision was his answer and Greg cleared his throat, turning his mind to the road ahead and switching the engine on. Well, this had gotten off to a rocky start. He had to hope that things wouldn’t get any worse. 

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, the start of a new story! I hope you have enjoyed reading and your curiosities are piqued, because this is the start of a long ride! 
> 
> Until next time, guys!
> 
> Ash.


End file.
